


Not So Scary

by Rozavie



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types, Scary Godmother (Movies), Scary Godmother Series - Jill Thompson
Genre: Cute, F/M, Halloween, No Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2020-12-07 23:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozavie/pseuds/Rozavie
Summary: (This one is really really off the wall.)Hannah Marie has been living in the normal world for her entire life—with occasional visits to the mysterious and wondrous Fright Side to see her peculiar friends. Ever since Hannah was 8 and found out about the Fright Side, her Scary Godmother, and that monsters really do exist, her normal life in the typical world fell to blah.Hannah always wanted to spend more time in the Fright Zone with her friends—one friend in particular, the vampire prince, Orson—and now, at the fresh age of 18, Hannah finally has the freedom to visit everyone—and Orson—whenever she wants.Watch Hannah and Orson come into their own in this bizarre tale of unlikely sweethearts.(Yes this is based off of those movies from the early 2000s. Yes it's weird but I think this ship is cute. Please enjoy.)





	1. Graduation Day

It was graduation day and Hannah Marie could hardly believe it.

To her and her parents and her cousin Jimmy, it felt like only yesterday Hannah was running around in her fairy princess (or rather, fairy queen) crown and tutu.

After returning home from the graduation location, Hannah endured two solid hours of her parents and aunt and uncle snapping photo after photo of her—wearing her white graduation gown, posing on the stairs in her knee-length lacey blue dress, holding the fairy wand she took trick-or-treating all those years ago. Hannah was too old for trick-or-treating now, but her parents kept her old costumes around (as mementos of her childhood, they said.)

Although this day was exhilarating, there was an undeniable sadness eating at the base of the young woman's heart. Hannah was 18. Today, she had to say goodbye to the friends she grew up with. Nothing would ever be the same.

Hannah couldn't stop a sigh from escaping her lips as she trudged upstairs after her family was finally satisfied with photos. Hannah thought it was hard when Jimmy and his friends Katie, Deryl, and Bert had graduated and gone off to live their lives 4 years ago, but this pain she felt was unimaginable.

Jimmy was so happy for her! Her parents were so happy for her! So she had to just tuck her melancholy feelings away. Luckily, she was able to use the "I'm exhausted excuse" (that wasn't a lie, she had been up since 6:00) and retreat to her room. She hid her frown behind a closed door and sat on her bed.

What was she going to do? She had been accepted into her school of choice—UC Davis' veterinary program—but something was missing. And she couldn't figure it out!

It's like having a nasty itch on your back, right out of reach of your fingers. Like having a cold that just won't quite go away. It was awful and it left Hannah feeling restless and unsatisfied. Of course, Hannah couldn't (and most certainly wouldn't) express these feelings to her parents. That would only make them worry. Hannah was generally a happy person; well-liked, popular and, she hoped, sweet. And she was okay with being known as the optimistic sweetheart everyone loved. She figured that itch on her back would go away on its own.

Speaking of itch, Hannah's dress was starting to chafe. It was beautiful and it made her feel like a princess (she never quite got over wanting to be a fairy princess) but after a day of sweating, the garment was downright uncomfortable.

She shuffled over to her closet and changed into her favorite fleece pajama pants. They had witches and bats all over them—Halloween themed! It was May, so not even close to Halloween season, but Hannah liked the holiday more than any other time of year and implementing spooky things into her life kept a smile on her cherubim face. Hannah couldn't recall why she loved Halloween so much, but she knew it gave her comfort.

Hannah fell back onto her bed and let her brown eyes survey her surroundings. This room... At the end of the summer, she would be leaving it behind for school. Of course, she would come back and visit, but it wouldn't be the same anymore. Hannah hoped her parents wouldn't do anything to change it while she was gone. It would be nice to come back to a familiar place to rest her head.

A sparkle under her vanity desk caught her eye. Hannah hadn't looked under there and years and she was suddenly struck with an urge to check there. Now that she was going away in a few months, it could be fun to go through some of her stuff—for nostalgia.

She slid off her bed onto her pink carpet and scooted to the other side of the room. Hannah laid on her belly and dug her hand into the underside of her desk. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. She pulled out a bouncy ball, a barbie, a book she wrote for a class project in the third grade and... a key.

Hannah sat up on her knees and observed the cold, metal key in her palm. It was shaped like a skull, and unlike everything else under her desk, this key didn't have a single speck of dust on it. What is this for? Hannah asked herself as she turned the metal over in her hand.

Then, it hit her, like sack of rocks.

"The Fright Zone." Hannah rolled over on her floor and peeked her head under her bed. She whispered into the dusty darkness, "Bug-A-Boo?"

How could she have forgotten? This is where she would have long conversations with the monster under her bed. When had he stopped coming around? Was it when she left for her first school dance?

Hannah raked her long brown hair from her forehead and whispered again, reaching through the dust, deeper into the abyss, "Buggy? Hello?"

The tips of her fingers brushed gently against a mat of familiar fur. "Bug-A-Boo!" Hannah lurched up in excitement, knocking her head against her bed frame. She clasped the back of her head and laid her face down against the musty carpet. "Owwww..."

A gruff voice came from the furry mound and a set of yellow and red eyes turned to face her. "Is that you, kid?" the voice seemed to boom out, practically shaking Hannah's insides. This was a welcome sound and it seemed to scratch that never-ending itch that Hannah had been living with for so long.

"Yes, it is!" Hannah scooted closer and offered a stretched-out hug to the monster. "I'm so sorry I forgot about you." Hannah felt tears pricking at her eyes. What a terrible friend she was.

"Ah, that's okay." The large purple tuft of fur and teeth offered an attempt at a hug in return. "Happens to the best of us."

"I found my key." Hannah held it out sheepishly. "Would..." she hesitated. "Would Scary Godmother be happy to see me?"

"Happy!?" Bug-A-Boo bellowed. "She would be more than happy to see her favorite kid."

Hannah grinned. "Thank you, Bug-A-Boo. I'll go pay her a visit."

"See you on the Fright Side!" Bug-A-Boo's voice followed her as she scooted out from under her bed.

Hannah rushed over to her closet and turned the key in the lock. When she opened the door, a burst of glitter shot from inside.

She entered the closet and came out on the other side in a familiar kitchen covered in cobwebs with a skinny witch in a pointy hat standing at the stove.

Hannah ran over, practically tripping over her own feet and called out, "Scary Godmother!"

The witch turned on her heel at the sound of Hannah's voice and a disbelieving grin spread across her cheeks. "Why if it isn't Hannah Marie?" For her, she never expected to see her little Hannah ever again. Every child who stumbles upon the Fright Side eventually forgets about the magical world of magic, scares and Halloween. It was a land of fairy tales and at some point, the place faded into the shadow of a dream. Scary Godmother always knew Hannah was a special kid, and her returning after nearly seven years of no contact proved that fact to be true.

Scary Godmother chose not to think about the unlikeliness of this situation and just took Hannah in her bony arms, squeezing her as tight as possible.

As they embraced, someone entered the room. Hannah and Scary Godmother were so engrossed in their reunion that neither of them seemed to notice the young man enter. He stood, darkening the doorway in his distressed jeans and Bloody Bats band tee for a moment before letting out a sharp gasp. "Oh my gosh, Hannah?!"

Hannah broke away from her embrace with her Scary Godmother and her jaw dropped to the floor. Orson was there. Orson the vampire. Orson the prince of the night. There he was and he had... grown up?


	2. Friends Again

Vampire children can grow up? Hannah never thought about that before.

She inched over to the handsome young vampire, hands fastened behind her back. She suddenly became very aware of her pajama pants.

Hannah's eyes traveled up and down, looking at every inch of her old friend. Orson's glowing, red eyes did the same. They were sizing each other up, determining how the other had changed over the years. Hannah was reminded of when they first met—both of them fascinated with the unfamiliar creature in the room.

"Hey, Orson."

"Hey, Hannah." More words seemed to catch on the edge of Orson's fang but he swallowed them back, cradling his pointed, pale chin in his long fingers. He didn't know what to say. The last time he saw Hannah, she was half his height (granted she was still much shorter than him). The last time they spoke they were children. Now, Orson was 122, and if his math was right, Hannah was 18—they were adults.

"You've gotten tall," Hannah said stupidly, rubbing her sweaty palms against her pajama pants. Her mouth was dry and she couldn't seem to settle her nerves. This was her old friend Orson. So why was she so clammy?

"You too." Orson nodded, plunging his lanky hands into his jean pockets.

Hannah giggled at that, "Not really." She shook her head, snorting, "I'm only 5'2''"

Orson laughed with her, like when they were kids. "That is pretty short."

They stood in silence then, the buzzing of the lights and Scary Godmother's ticking oven timer awkwardly filling the space between them.

Scary Godmother looked at both them, eyes glancing between the two young adults. Oh dear, she thought.

"Why don't you kids help me out?" Scary Godmother clapped her hands, fluttering over to Hannah with her petite wings. "Could you go look for my 'Screams and Spirits' cookbook from my library?"

Scary Godmother pushed Hannah closer to Orson and a lump formed in Hannah's throat. Scary Godmother shuttled the two up the stairs and into the library. And Hannah could have sworn that she had heard the door lock behind them.

Orson tried the knob and exhaled in frustration. "Well I guess we just have to find that cookbook."

Hannah nodded and turned away to hide the rose blush in her cheeks. Why did Scary Godmother have to do this? She screamed inside her head; Orson and I probably have nothing in common anymore. I expected to see him here, but I didn't expect him to look like this—like an adult.

Hannah clasped her hands behind her back again and meandered over to one of the curly ladders propped up against one of the many bookshelves. Hannah began to climb up and up, reaching for the furthest book from Orson as possible. Her fingers barely brushed the edge of the book and the ladder began shivering dangerously beneath her sock-clad feet. She yelped as she began to fall from her perch.

Just as she was about to plummet to a painfully unforgiving floor, Hannah felt a pair of lanky, chilled arms hook under her armpits, stabilizing her balance.

"Be careful!" Orson scolded, floating her down from the ladder.

"Sorry." Hannah brushed herself off, sheepish.

Orson rubbed his spiked hair and sucked on his fangs. "Why are we so awkward?" He exhaled, "We used to be best friends."

"Yeah..." Hannah sat on a shorter step ladder heavily. "I just feel terrible for forgetting about you guys."

Sympathy flooded Orson's pale figures and he floated to a cross-legged position on the floor in front of his old friend. "Well, you remembered," he assured her, "So that's all that matters."

Hannah let a smile crack on her face. She nodded gratefully, sliding off the ladder and offering her friend a genuine hug.

"Let's just be friends again." Orson hugged her back, a dopey grin between his ears.

"I would like that."

Hannah let go of Orson after a long squeeze and the two of them took the opportunity to pepper each other with questions about the past 8 years.

Hannah was now certain—this is what she had been missing all these years. The Fright Side.


	3. Slow Day

Hannah returned home that night with her blurry eyes full of sleep. She hadn't intended to stay in the Fright Side for quite as long as she did, but she ended up talking with Orson and Scary Godmother and the others for hours. In the "normal" world, Hannah had tons of friends—all of them very nice—but the monsters on the Fright Side seemed to understand her so much better than the friends she made in high school. Hannah couldn't fathom how she used to be afraid of them.

From the sheer silence on the other side of her locked door, Hannah could tell that her parents were asleep and her extended family had gone home. They must have assumed she was napping and left her alone for the rest of the day.

Hannah glanced at the clock and was less surprised than she should have been to see the time flashing, "3:00 a.m." When she was a child, Hannah would spend entire nights on the Fright Side, only coming home just in time for sunrise. The entire place was such fun.

As she lay down into her familiar bed, Hannah stared at the ceiling. Her heart wouldn't rest in her chest. After all, who could sleep after rediscovering a magical world like the Fright Side? The adrenaline coursing through her veins made it nearly impossible for her to drift off, but eventually, she managed it, hugging a pillow to her chest and thinking soft thoughts.

Hannah was all alone when she woke up in the morning. Her parents had work and she was officially out of school for the summer. It felt weird having nothing to do. Hannah was always busy in high school—the captain of the varsity volleyball team, first violin in the orchestra, part-time veterinary intern (as a secretary, but it still counts) and stage manager for her school's theater company. She was always running around, doing something, top of her class and in all her activities, but now she was just stuck at home.

To combat her lack of anything to do, Hannah decided to cook herself a nice breakfast. She chewed on her pancakes and munched on her eggs, but even good food couldn't cure her boredom. Hannah wanted to visit the Fright Side—the perfect place to cure lethargy—but she knew if she showed up now, nobody would be awake to spend time with. Most of her friends there were nocturnal so if Hannah wanted to see them, she would have to adopt a sort of nocturnal lifestyle herself.

After hours of hopelessly flipping through mindless television channels, Hannah decided it would be best to try and sleep through the day, just until dusk so she could steal away to the other dimension beyond her door.

This time, before heading into the Fright Side, Hannah spruced herself up. In hindsight, seeing everyone again for the first time while she wore her crappy, old pajama pants was incredibly mortifying. Orson looked so fashionable and sure of his style and she wanted to show that she had grown into her own as well.

Hannah zipped on a green skater dress with yellow sunflowers printed along the hem, white leggings, and black tennis shoes. Hannah had short hair when she was growing up and, although she's had her long tresses for years, she never quite knew what to do with it. She slapped her oddly curly, tangled mass of brown into a ponytail and raked it together until it was good enough.

She stuck the key in the lock, turned the tumblers and she was back again, in the Fright Side.

Hannah couldn't hear a peep throughout the house. It was still early in the evening—the sun had just gone down—so she wasn't entirely surprised. She sat patiently at the kitchen table, tapping her finger gently against a spider-shaped dinner plate. Hannah glanced over to the side and noticed Scary Godmother's telephone sitting on the counter.

Orson didn't know she was here today. Yesterday, he, by chance, had to return a book his mother borrowed to Scary Godmother. If she wanted to see Orson this night, she would probably have to give him a call.

She wandered over to the telephone, unsure of what she would say to Orson during the call. Hannah wasn't usually nervous about phone calls, but calling Orson made her pits sweat. She found his number among the, what had to be hundreds of, numbers on Scary Godmother's cell and pressed "call."

Hannah leaned back against the counter and listened to the ring go and go. For a moment, she was worried she caught Orson while he was still asleep and thought about hanging up and trying again a different day, but just as she got discouraged, the other end picked up.

"Hello?" Orson mumbled into the receiver. The sleepiness in his voice was thick. After all, it was only 7 p.m. Who could possibly be calling at this hour? Orson wasn't planning on getting up for, hopefully, another six hours—granted his parents let him.

Orson's eyes shot wide when he heard Hannah on the other end.

"Hi, Orson," her voice rang. "It's me, Hannah."

The young vampire floated from his coffin, waking up his stiff muscles. "Hey," Orson answered, trying to hide the overwhelming excitement he felt in his stomach. "Back on our side already?"

"Mhm."

Orson swore he could hear Hannah nodding.

Hannah continued, "I know it's early for you, but wanna hang out?"

Orson paused for a moment. He caught himself in his coffin-side mirror. He looked like a fate worse than death—which is saying a lot, considering he was already dead. "Yeah, sure..." he paused. "Just give me an hour and I'll meet you at Scary Godmother's."

Orson hung up and ran his hand through his black hair. Now... what to wear?


	4. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one in the dining hall so I apologize if it's not good.

Hannah was just going to hang out with her friend. That's all it was. 

Hannah sat at Scary Godmother's mirror, raking her fingers through her hair. Why wouldn't her curls ever stick down? Hannah's mom used to say that if she grew her hair long, the wild strands would control themselves, but having her hair past her shoulders seemed to have only made them disobey her more.

"Oh, Hannah, you look fine." Scary Godmother was stretched out on her bed on her stomach, palms holding up her chin. She was a hopeless romantic and watching this awkward crush bloom was a treat—sweeter than a candy apple.

Hannah turned to face Scary Godmother, resting her hands on her dainty knees. "I know." She shifted in her seat.

"Orson likes you just the way you are," Scary Godmother reassured the young woman. "You're a beautiful little lady."

Hannah's head was engulfed in blushing warmth and she stared at her shoes. "I don't care what Orson thinks I look like." Hannah was lucky Scary Godmother couldn't see the butterflies in her stomach.

Before Scary Godmother could push her more—make her realize that maybe Orson meant more to her than just a friend—the doorbell ringed.

"That must be Orson!" Scary Godmother exclaimed. "Come along, Hannah."

Scary Godmother floated down the stairs, a grin stretched across her face. She held Hannah's hand all the way down and they both opened the door to come face to face with Orson—and his mother, Ruby.

"What a surprise, Ruby!" Scary Godmother curtsied deeply. "Come on in!"

"Thank you, Scary Godmother." Ruby ducked into the doorway, followed by her son. "Orson told me Hannah was back on the Fright Side and I wanted to say hello."

Hannah smiled politely. "Hello. Nice to see you again."

"Oh my, how you've grown." Ruby held her chest. "It seems like only yesterday you and my little boy were running around and making trouble." Ruby reached over to Orson and pinched his cheek painfully with her long fingers.

If Orson was able, he would be blushing bright red, just like Hannah. "Mom, stop it," he complained, moving away and adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses. "You're embarrassing me in front of Hannah."

Hannah held back a giggle.

Orson shoved his hands in his jean pockets and nodded at Hannah. "Wanna go?" he asked. "We can go see a movie at the fearter or something."

Hannah nodded and moved towards the door. She smiled at Ruby. "It was nice to see you. We'll be back later."

Orson and Hannah waved goodbye as they walked out of the house and into the pumpkin patch outside.

As soon as the door was closed, Orson leaned into Hannah and whispered, "I lied about the movie. We're gonna go somewhere cool."

"And where is that?" Hannah raised her eyebrows, leaning into Orson in return.

"You'll see." Orson squatted in front of Hannah. "Climb on."

Hannah quickly turned her head to hide the flush in her cheeks. Orson flew her around a lot when they were younger. So why did this feel weird? She swallowed and took the piggyback position on his back. She suddenly became very aware of how much both of their bodies had changed. She tried not to think about it.

Orson stood to his full height and lifted off the ground. He held Hannah securely, but she couldn't stop herself from letting out a yelp and holding onto Orson's neck tighter.

Orson was lucky Hannah couldn't see the butterflies in his stomach.

Hannah liked being in the Fright Side during summer. Even though the seasons here progressed the same as back home, the Fright Side never seemed to get warm. It always carried the soft nip of fall and it gave Hannah pleasant goosebumps. Orson was the same temperature as the air, comfortably cold to the touch.

Orson also smelled like the cold—he smelled like leaf mold and stone. Hannah didn't know people could smell like that—but, she supposed, Orson wasn't really a "person" so it made sense for him to not smell like one.

Hannah, however... Hannah smelled like sunshine itself. Orson could sniff out Hannah's sunkissed human sweetness with just a whiff. But when he was near Hannah, he never once felt the urge to take a bite. His nature was to suck blood, but with Hannah, all he wanted to do was feel the warmth through her skin, as opposed to taking it for himself.

Once Hannah trusted fully that Orson had enough strength and skill to not drop her to her death, Hannah loosened her grip on his neck. She held up her hands and giggled as the wind rushed through her hair and clothes, throwing her curls into disarray.

Eventually, their momentum through the air slowed and Orson landed them in the middle of a vine-gripped cemetery.

Hannah climbed off of Orson's back and she threw a glance around. She crossed her arms and popped out her hip, raising an eyebrow at Orson. "If I had wanted to hang out in a graveyard, I would have stayed in Scary Godmother's yard."

"You'll like this one, I promise." Orson gently placed his hand on Hannah's shoulder from behind and ushered her to a mausoleum a few paces ahead of them. He swung open the door, revealing a staircase down into the ground. Soft music wafted up from the depths. Orson guided Hannah down down down until they came upon a cute little coffee shop, populated by skeletons and zombies, all peacefully sipping drinks, munching on pastries, and listening to live music.

Hannah giggled, "It's a coffin shop."

"No, just a coffee shop." Orson rolled his eyes playfully at her pun. "I thought you would like it."

"I do!" Hannah looked around, "But why didn't you want to tell your mom about this place?"

Orson and Hannah strolled over to the register to order. Orson explained, "Sometimes they have rock nights here and I play with my band." He purchased their drinks. "Mom would tell my dad and my dad hates rock music."

"Ah..." Hannah nodded. "I forgot how old-fashioned your dad can be."

"You got that right." Orson plopped down at the nearest table and continued, "This is my special spot and I don't want my family ruining it."

"I understand." Hannah really did, all too well. She was never able to get into any kind of fun, teenage trouble in high school because her parents were always breathing down her neck. Hannah was jealous Orson had a place he could retreat to when he wanted a moment to be himself.

"Anyway," Orson quickly went to change the subject. He could read a room and it was obvious that his lamenting his lack of freedom was getting Hannah down. "What are you up to lately?"

Hannah talked about high school, going to college and all of her anxieties about leaving home. And Orson listened, hanging on to every single word.


	5. The Beach Trip

The end of the summer rushed at Hannah like a massive wave. It knocked her off her feet and took her completely by surprise.

Once again, she was spending her day with Orson. At least she would be able to see HIM while at college. As long as she had a door with a keyhole, she could visit him. Still, Hannah couldn't help her melancholy about having to leave her family and earthly friends to go off to college across the country.

They were hanging out in Orson's palace's bedroom. Orson sat on one end of his coffin and Hannah sat on the other.

Orson flipped through a dusty book, stealing ginger glances at Hannah as she sighed and leaned her head back to watch the stars outside the window. What was wrong with her? It wasn't hard to tell that she was upset... But what about? Hannah never talked about her concerns or her fears... She only talked about how happy she was.

Orson cleared his throat, "Is something the matter?" He scooted a little closer to her, rubbing his neck.

Hannah looked back at him and blinked. "Oh... I'm fine."

Orson caught his fang on his lip, gently exhaling through his nose. "I can tell you're not fine."

"It's just..." Hannah shook her head. "I'm just really scared of leaving home and going off to school."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you," she mumbled. "I was already selfish with your feelings when I went and forgot you existed so-"

Orson cut her off then, "No you weren't." He placed a frigid hand on her bare knee. "You moved on with life and I can't blame you for that."

Hannah felt her cheeks flood with warmth and glanced at Orson's hand on her skin.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" Orson smiled softly. "Anything you want."

Hannah, the girl with more friends and acquaintances than she could count, had never had anyone in her life outside of her family who was this warm and understanding. Orson was so tender with her feelings and it sent a rush through her heart. Hannah put her hand over Orson's and entwined their fingers. For someone so cold, Orson's heart was very warm.

"Well..." She smiled. "Have you ever been to the beach?"

Orson squeezed her hand in return as he chuckled awkwardly. "The sun will kill me, remember?"

"Well, it's a good thing I love going to the beach at night."

Orson chuckled then, "Okay then. Let's go."

Orson hadn't been to Hannah's side of the door since they were children and he had most certainly never gone to the beach. As Hannah beckoned him up the night-darkened dune, donned in her simple, white t-shirt and shorts, his eyes widened at the sight before him. The beach sprawled with bluish-gray tones of sand, touched with blackened water, lit in silver light by the moon.

The place was empty and the sand was cold between Hannah's and Orson's toes. Hannah traversed the sandy expanse and found a lovely spot right where the sand began to turn wet with groundwater.

She sat down, pulling the blanket they brought around her shoulders and offering space for Orson.

He sat next to her, cuddling under the blanket as well. Seeing the stars twinkling above the sea like this, next to his best friend in the world, Orson could die happy—figuratively, of course.

The seafoam just barely brushed their feet and it was cold. To Orson, it felt like hardly anything, but Hannah shivered every time the ocean lapped up against her. Orson could feel her goosebumps through her shirt. Orson had almost forgotten Hannah's humanity. She was warm-blooded and he was no-blooded. Suddenly, a weight in Orson's stomach appeared. He couldn't do anything to warm Hannah up.

He gently moved the blanket from off his shoulders and wrapped the whole thing around her instead, tucking every inch of her into the warm cocoon.

"I don't need it," Orson explained when Hannah looked at him funny. "I don't really have a body temperature.

Hannah's gaze lingered on him as Orson moved to sit back in his spot. She reached out from her blanket burrito and held onto his hand again, looking out into the starry ocean. The horizon went on for eternity. Hannah wanted this moment to go on for eternity too. Out here, she noticed how Orson's red eyes glowed slightly in the darkness.

Orson noticed how Hannah's clear, light brown eyes reflected the moonlight and how her nose flushed with red in response to the nip in the ocean air.

They seemed to be noticing a lot about each other lately.

How Orson was lanky and skinny as a stick, but how he wore his height with unwavering pride.

How Hannah's curls stuck up in chunks, no matter how hard she tried to smooth it down.

The pointiness of all of Orson's edges.

The soft roundness of Hannah's nose and knees.

That, even when Orson was hunched over—as he often was—he towered heads above her, but never came off as intimidatingly large.

How Hannah was small and soft and dimpled.

Sparkles went off in Hannah's tummy as she scooted closer to her best friend's side.

As Hannah came closer, Orson leaned in too.

She didn't know what to do next. Hannah was stuck in place. She wanted to keep noticing and discovering these things about Orson, but she couldn't think of any way to do that—other than talking, but the sound of the ocean was so lovely, she didn't want to drown it out with chatter. There was one way, she thought. But that would be so awkward. She mustered her strength buried her face in her blanket, mumbling, "Do you wanna kiss me?"

Orson bristled and he turned to look at his friend. He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a puff of air and a little gasp. He stared at Hannah, eyebrows raised and tried his best to muster a sound from his throat.

It took him a solid ten seconds to gather his thoughts but, eventually, he lifted Hannah's chin, revealing her beet-red face. He cleared his throat, "Only if you want to kiss me."

Hannah had never kissed anyone before, so she was shaking like a leaf. She screwed her eyes shut and stiffly jutted her chin out towards Orson.

Orson gingerly held her chin between his fingers and moved her head down, gently meeting their lips in the middle.

And it was happening. They were kissing each other.

Hannah was kissing her best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the romance. And I will have some lovely drama too. Nobody intended for anyone to write a romance fic about these characters but here we go!


	6. Dorm Room Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about UC Davis. I just know that it's a school with a decent vet program. So sorry if I get stuff wrong. Also, the new character I introduce here is not from the original work (obviously) and they are not a self insert. The source material I'm working from has a restricted selection of characters so I'll be adding in some rando new characters of my own invention.  
Thanks! Enjoy!

UC Davis was a huge school. Hannah knew that when she applied, but now, sitting on her bed, staring out her dorm window, she could see just how massive the campus was.

Her parents had left for their flight home already and Hannah was left alone with half-unpacked boxes and crumpled bed sheets to put in order. Hannah was overwhelmed. Her roommate hadn't arrived yet and all Hannah was left with was her growing anxiety.

The walls were an icky, sickly white and the carpet, she feared, was dirtier than a bathroom floor. She stood solemnly, positioning herself a few feet away from her bed. She had to do what she did best—look on the bright side of things. 

Before she got started, Hannah had to summon Orson. He had said that he wanted to help her out with moving in, and she wasn't about to pass up some free assistance. Also, she hadn't seen him since they kissed on the beach. It took her a full week to call him afterward. And she was still feeling very shy about being around him.

Orson said he would wait for her on the other side of the door at 4:00 pm her time. Luckily, Hannah's doorknob had a keyhole, so she unlocked her door with her skeleton key and sat on her bed, waiting for Orson to come through.

Eventually, he did and his jaw dropped when he saw the bland walls and furniture. "Wow..." Orson closed the door behind him and made his way over to where Hannah was sitting. "Could use a few more decorations." He chuckled and leaned over her bed frame. He didn't know how to greet her now. Did he hug her? Kiss her? Shake her hand?

Hannah giggled and leaned forward, answering Orson's question. She kissed his cheek and hopped off her bed. "That's why you're here."

"Smart of you, I have impeccable interior design taste."

"Well, aren't I lucky," Hannah said as she smiled and squatted in front of her first half-opened box. "You can put my clothes away and I'll start with the other stuff."

The two worked like a well-oiled machine, and soon, Hannah's side of the room wasn't sad anymore—now, it felt like a place she could, not just live in, but thrive in. 

Hannah sat heavily in her desk chair and beckoned Orson over to her. "Let's stop for now." They had been unpacking and organizing for hours, and Hannah's new, mint-colored wall clock advertised it was now 8:00 p.m. 

Orson leaned on the desk next to Hannah and looked down at her with a grin. "It looks nice."

"Thank you." Hannah folded her hands over her lap and smiled at the ground, a blush rising in her cheeks. Butterflies flew recklessly through her gut and her heart pounded in her ears. This was a crush—Hannah knew that much. But Hannah couldn't remember ever crushing on anyone so hard. Quite frankly, Hannah didn't know what to do about it. She had suddenly been dumped into a rose-tinted world where she wanted to kiss her best friend. 

Hannah reached out and held Orson's fingers gently. They smiled at each other in silence, enjoying the sweet company.

Orson was gathering his courage to kiss her again, but just as he went to stoop down to her height, a sunny-skinned person with wild, orangey-bleached curls burst into the room, lugging a massive duffel bag on their back and gripping a fish tank in their freckled arms. Somehow, this person's mop of hair was even more magnificently frizzy than Hannah's. 

Hannah jumped in surprise as the door swung open and slammed into the wall. She turned and a smile brightened her shocked face. "Clementine!" Hannah stood and rushed over to Clementine, taking the fish tank from her friend. Hannah had been speaking with Clem all summer. The two had met in their freshman orientation and became fast friends. Hannah had talked Orson's ear off about how excited she was to live with such a cool person. On the other hand, Hannah had said nothing about Orson to Clem, and for a moment, she forgot the vampire boy was even in the room with them at all. It wasn't until Clem noticed him did Hannah realize how confused they must have been.

Clem raised their head from Hannah's hug and looked over at Orson. Orson's eyes bugged and he turned his head away, hoping Clem didn't ask any questions about his pale skin, or fangs, or height, or ominously, glowing red eyes. 

"Who's that?" Clem threw their duffel bag onto their bed with a thump. They followed the bag, throwing their body on top of it. They rolled over and looked directly at Orson. 

Hannah walked over to Orson and giggled, waving her hand in his direction. "This is Orson. My..." Hannah didn't know how to introduce him. She blushed bright red. "My boyfriend..." She practically whispered. 

Orson bit on his lip to hold back a massive smile growing on his face. Hannah picked up her water bottle and took a sip of water. 

Clem nodded. "I see." They stared him down suspiciously, deep, brown eyes narrowing. "How'd you meet?"

"We've been friends since we were little kids," Orson said, sliding down the wlal and sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

"Hannah grew up with a vampire?" Clem sat up, grinning smugly. "That's cool."

Hannah choked on her water and started coughing violently. She said through her gasps, "W-what?" 

Clem rolled their eyes, "He's so obviously a vampire!" They held out their hand in Orson's direction, "Red eyes. Gray skin. Vampire."

Orson tapped his knee on the floor, "And you believe in vampires?"

"I believe in everything," Clem stated matter-of-factly, nodding. Their puff of curls bounced with their bobbing head, creating an almost hypnotizing flurry of hair. "And I believe that you, my friend, are a vampire."

Orson and Hannah exchanged a glance and Hannah exhaled gently, "Yeah, he is." She rolled her eyes and sat next to Orson on the floor, resting her head on his pointed shoulder. She pulled her knees to her chest.

"You won't tell anyone?" Orson asked.

Clem snorted at that, chortling and rolling onto their back. "Of course not!" They leaned off their bed, looking at the couple upside down. "Everyone would call me crazy." 

"Well you're a little bit crazy." Orson shrugged. "After all, the first thing you thought when you first saw me was 'vampire.'" 

Clem grinned and held their face in their manicured hands. "Everyone is a little bit crazy."


	7. House Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I have not updated this thing since October which is kind of a shame! I went back and read through the chapters and I had a pretty good thing going here. So I think, while I’m bored in quarantine and out of school for the summer, I want to continue this story.  
I am freaking proud of this thing so far, so I really don’t know why I dropped it after just a few chapters! I made it on a whim after watching the movies with my dormmates, but I still have a passion for these two and their stories. I hope you enjoy this chapter and everything that is to come!  
Also TW: I don’t usually discuss sex in my stories, but this chapter contains some subject matter about cat calling and harassment. It’s nothing graphic, but I want to warn anyone who might have a negative experience reading this!

Hannah settled into college a lot faster than she ever thought possible. Clem made it easy. They seemed to know everybody on campus already so, by proxy, Hannah also knew everybody on campus. And her classes were wonderful—she especially enjoyed her biochemistry lab. Hannah had always been a fan of science and she was proud to say that she was excelling.

Orson was also a frequent visitor and his presence had made things go even more smoothly—especially when she had to attend nighttime social events like parties. Orson was much more used to the party scene than she was, so she often brought him along when Clem dragged her out on the weekends.

At this particular shindig, Hannah sat in the corner, a cup of some sort of heinous alcoholic beverage gripped in her fist. She wasn’t a drinker, but she was thirsty and all the hosts had to drink was beer, vodka, or hard lemonade. Hannah chose the latter—at least it was sweet.

Hannah had long since lost Clem in the crowd and gave up on looking for them. Clem would never abandon her on purpose at a party, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. Orson was also supposed to be here, but he hadn’t shown up at the dorm at the designated time. They were forced to leave without him. He hadn’t even sent Hannah a text, which was unlike him. She tried not to worry herself about it too much. Still, just in case, she had texted Orson directions to the house.

As she sat quietly, observing the drunken hoards as they talked and danced in a sweaty cluster, a hand tapped her shoulder. She turned, hoping Orson had found his way here, but someone else was there instead. It was this guy that Hannah had one of her seminars with. What was his name again?

“You’re Hannah, right?” he asked, inviting himself into the seat next to her. He smelled like hard liquor and cigarette smoke. Hannah had to stifle a cough.

“Yep,” she said. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“I’m Jackson.” He slicked his hair back with his fingers and grinned sideways at Hannah. “And you’re beautiful.”

Hannah smiled politely and cleared her throat awkwardly as she swirled her drink in her hand. She watched the yellow liquid slosh around. “Thanks.”

Jackson leaned in closer. Far too close for Hannah’s liking and whispered up at her, “People say you’re a good girl.”

Hannah didn’t like where this was about to go so she tried to politely dismiss herself, but Jackson cut her off by standing in her way. He leaned down and got into her face again. He was starting to get belligerent in his drunkenness and his face was twisted into a frown. “Oh, so you think you’re too good for me?” he yelled. The music was too loud, so nobody seemed to notice what was happening.

Hannah shrunk away and looked frantically around for Clem to come intervene. It was in moments like this where Hannah wished she was more assertive, or at least more physically intimidating. This wasn’t the first time a guy had tried something with her, but this was the first time someone had gotten mean with her.

Jackson started on a rant, moving closer to Hannah with each angry burst. She backed away every time. That is, until she found herself against a wall. Jackson reached for her, but in a sudden flash of moxy, Hannah threw her cup into his face, causing the hulking man to stumble back and rub at his eyes. She ran around him as quickly as possible, but collided face-first into someone’s torso.

It was Orson, and he was glaring at Jackson with his lava-like eyes. If looks could kill, Orson would have been arrested for murder.

Jackson finally managed to get his eyes open and they locked directly onto Hannah. He started rushing toward her again, shouting a profanity. He was cut off by Orson who swiftly pulled Hannah behind his body.

Orson was an easy-going guy. He never got into fights and he was well-respected back home. But he was absolutely blind with rage now. He had never wanted to suck a human dry more than in that moment. But instead, he did something equally uncharacteristic—albeit far less grotesque. He leaned in close to Jackson, gripping his cheeks between his fingers. He squeezed his face painfully and forced him to make direct eye contact. Orson’s eyes glowed brighter and Jackson’s went blank before lighting up red too. He began to sway slightly and went slack.

People were starting to noticed the nearly seven-foot-tall Orson as he towered over Jackson. Hannah had never seen Orson this way. For once, he was actually scary. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like the feeling that seeing him like this gave her. It was like she was stuck in slow motion and a chill seemed to emanate from Orson’s body.

“From now on, you won’t speak to my girlfriend, or speak about her to anyone,” he hissed. His voice was deathly cold. “And you will never treat a woman like that ever again.”

Jackson nodded in his hypnotized stupor and Orson snapped his fingers, releasing Jackson from his control. After a few moments, Jackson blinked, recognition returning to his eyes. He looked at Hannah momentarily before turning around and returning to his fun. The other partiers lost interest in Orson as soon as Jackson seemed to move on and the dancing started up again.

Hannah held her arm, trying to steady her shaking. That was the scariest moment of her life—even scarier than when Jimmy had locked her in the Spook House the night she met Scary Godmother. She didn’t say a word to Orson as she turned around and walked out of the house and into the front yard. She pulled out her phone to text Clem that she was leaving.

It was a chilly night, the kind of night that comes at the end of September, right as the world decides it’s time for autumn. Hannah should have enjoyed this weather, but instead, the cold just made her fearful shaking that much worse.

Orson ran to catch up with her, his long strides accommodating for three of Hannah’s. He cut in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders, concern contorting his face. “Are you alright? Did he touch you? Hurt you?”

Hannah shook her head, hugging herself. “No. I threw my drink at him before he could do anything.”

“That’s good…” Orson went to draw Hannah into a hug, but she flinched away from him. Not just moved away. Flinched. Like she was scared of his touch. Orson pulled his hands away and quietly shoved them into his hoodie pockets.

She sniffled and wiped her wet eyes with the sleeve of her cable knit cardigan. “Why weren’t you there earlier?” she asked, holding back a nasty sob. “You were supposed to go with me.” Deep down, she knew it wasn’t fair to blame Orson for what had happened, but she was on an emotional downhill tumble.

“I had stuff,” Orson answered, scuffing his sneaker into the sidewalk.

“Stuff,” Hannah scoffed through her tears, a bit of snot dislodging audibly from her nose. “You could have called me. Or at least texted. ‘Hey, Hannah. I’m bailing on you tonight for ‘stuff. Go get assaulted alone.’”

Orson pursed his lips, holding back what he wanted to say. He was surprised and hurt that Hannah would try to pin this on him. He understood that she was scared and vulnerable, but blaming him for Jackson’s actions was simply not fair. “That isn’t fair,” he said calmly, consciously holding his voice at a level tone.

Hannah’s jaw was set and she shook her head. “And what was that whole thing in there?” She was on a roll now. She wasn’t used to being out-of-control of her emotions, so she couldn’t filter all of the things she was feeling right now. “That hypnotizing thing.”

“You mean the thing I used to stop a guy from going after you?” Orson rallied back. “What of it?”

“It was horrifying,” Hannah exclaimed. “How do I know you haven’t been doing that to me?” She didn’t really believe that, but after seeing it in person, a seed of fear was planted in her gut. She hated that it was there, but she could feel it, and it had made her wary, like a prey animal. And her own boyfriend was the potential predator. That, on top of the adrenaline from almost being attacked, and the little bit of alcohol in her system was making her think and say things she was probably going to regret in the morning.

“Are you kidding me?” Orson was more than hurt. Hannah might as well have shoved a wooden stake through his heart. He wavered as he approached her. “Hannah, I would never.” He reached out for her, but yet again, she backed away. He drew his hand back and took off his glasses, pinching his nose in frustration. He didn’t know what to say to comfort her, and he was getting agitated, so anything he did manage to say would have come out sounding angry and strained.

“I’ve seen your dad do that,” Hannah said. She was still scared of Max, and she was pretty sure that he still wanted to sink his fangs into her. Orson had tried to assure her that Max was harmless, but even he seemed unsure of that. She wasn’t fond of how much Orson had looked like his father while he was hypnotizing Jackson. She had always thought he favored his mother more, but now, all she could see was Max. “Is that the ‘stuff’ you were doing? Training up freaky vampire powers to lure humans into your clutches or something?”

Orson couldn’t keep his composure anymore and he snapped, “Well, I am a freaky vampire, in case you haven’t noticed!” He threw his hands into the air. “If that’s suddenly become a problem for you, then I’m sorry.” If he had had the ability to cry then, he would have.

Hannah stood dumbly, stunned at the sudden burst of anger. The fight-or-flight response she had been feeling slowly melted away, and she stopped seeing a dangerous creature in front of her. And there was Orson, shaking with anger and hurt. Just Orson. The Orson she grew up with. The Orson she loved. She placed her hands over her mouth, realizing what she had said in a rush of guilt. Before she opened her began to apologize, Clem ran out of the house and down the sidewalk toward them.

They called out, “Hannah! Someone told me that Jackson freaked on you!”

Orson glanced over his shoulder and decided that Hannah was probably in better hands with Clem, rather than in the hands of a dangerous monster. He gave Hannah one last pained glance before suddenly shifting his form into a bat and fluttering off into the night.


	8. That's On Adulting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am finally updating this again after four months. Every time I almost lose motivation for this story, someone comes along and comments on it and sparks my creativity again.   
I'm currently working on three fics, plus school, plus my job. So please bear with me! I know this fic isn't super popular, but for those of you who do read it and enjoy it, I hope you'll wait around! (Fingers crossed I can come up with a regular updating schedule!)  
Anyway, with that all said, let's get on to the chapter!

Orson hoped for a call from Hannah. Or even a text. Something to tell him that she was sorry for what she had said. But so far he had received nothing. All he knew was that his girlfriend had called him a monster and then stopped speaking to him. Which hurt, for some pretty obvious reasons. So, instead of waiting for her call, Orson threw himself into the “stuff” that had made him late to that terrible party.

The “stuff” being preparing for his coronation as King of the Night.

Max had been training Orson for his inevitable role on the throne since he was a kid, but it was only on the night of the party that Max had announced that his coronation was happening this year—on Halloween, no less. He had planned on telling Hannah what was happening, but, obviously, he hadn’t had the opportunity before the fight.

“Wonderful, Orson,” Max called to his son as he practiced his incantations for his big night. It made Count Max’s undead heart light to see his son becoming so invested in his coronation. Up to this point, every discussion about Orson becoming king had been met with groans and eyerolls. But now, he was reading from the ancient texts and preparing like a good little prince.

Orson, on the other hand, was about to lose it. He thought that maybe because he was an adult now, his father would allow him to have a tad more autonomy over his own crowning ceremony, but it was clear that Max was content telling Orson how things should be done.

“Oh,” Max exclaimed, and Orson stopped short in the middle of his recitation. “The tailor has finished your coronation outfit.” He stalked over to a coat bag on the other side of the room and unzipped it as he explained, “I almost forgot to show you.” From within the black bag Max pulled out the ugliest outfit in existence—a puffy-legged, gaudy getup with an unnecessarily long cape.

And that did it. That tipped Orson over the edge. The frustration he had had pent up over the weeks from Hannah’s outburst, and being shoved around by his control freak of a dad bubbled over and poured out. “I am not wearing that.”

“It is tradition,” Max insisted. “This is what you will wear as king-“

“No.”

“You will-“

“No I won’t!” Orson yelled, letting out a bone-chilling hiss. “If I’m going to be king, I am going to do it my way.”

Orson had no idea where this sudden burst of defiance had come from. He had thought that he had been too down in the dumps to do anything other than follow orders. But here was, storming wildly over to Max. He locked eyes with his father as he pushed up his glasses decisively. “I am not traditional and I never plan to be.” He took a step back. “And you’re just going to have to deal with that.”

Orson left no time to hear Max’s response as he turned on his heel and stomped upstairs to his room.

Over on the other side, Hannah was having her own fair share of emotional outbursts—hers, however, came in the form of long hours of obsessive studying and sleepless nights. She occupied her time with excess work with the intention of forgetting what she had said, and hopefully coming to terms with the fact that Orson probably never wanted to see her again.

Clementine’s concern for Hannah’s wellbeing was growing day by day. She was trying her hardest to act like whatever was going was not bothering her, but after a few weeks of Hannah’s night-long study sessions, Clem decided to stage a bit of an intervention.

Hannah trudged through the dorm complex, her backpack weighing her down like a ton of rocks. She swung open the door to her room and stepped inside. Once she was past the threshold, Clementine, who had been lying in wait next to the door jumped out and snapped the door shut, locking it, and putting their large frame between Hannah and the exit.

Hannah turned around in confusion, dropping her bag to her feet. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“I’m locking you in,” they explained. “So that you can’t run from this difficult conversation I’m about to make you have.”

“What difficult conversation?” Hannah asked, hopping up to sit on her bed. She kicked off her shoes and lay back, holding onto a pillow.

“You and Orson.”

Hannah stiffened.

“I know something went down between you two on the night of that party.” Clementine sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the door and looked up at Hannah intently. “I can tell that you’re running away from whatever happened. So, what happened?”

Their first worry was that Orson had hurt Hannah in some way. They liked the guy, and he seemed cool, but They didn’t really _know_ him. If he had messed with her, Clementine was ready to kill him… Or, you know, kill him again.

Hannah sat up and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I…” she sniffed hard and shook her head slowly. “I acted like I was afraid of him.” She felt tears start pricking the corners of her eyes. “He was so hurt, and I didn’t get the chance to apologize.”

Clem blinked. They hadn’t thought that Hannah could hurt anyone. They bit their lip and rubbed their chin. “Well then, stop pouting and do something about it.”


	9. Who's Scared of the King of the Night?

The actual coronation day arrived fast. Orson still had no word from Hannah, but he didn’t exactly have much time to focus on his relationship woes.

Although Orson had spent the entire month doing little more than preparing, he didn’t feel ready. He was on edge, and he swore that his heart was going to start beating at any minute. It made him feel slightly better that he wouldn’t have to stand in front of his friends and family in that disgusting outfit from before, but his fitted black suit jacket and red leaf-patterned button-up couldn’t fully ease his nerves.

As he psyched himself up, Ruby glided into the room, her soft eyes gazing at Orson sympathetically. “Are you nervous, my dear?”

“’Nervous’ would be an understatement.”

Ruby was the only person that Orson had told about the situation with Hannah, and his mother had been playing cheer-up ever since. She could see it in the way Orson gazed out the window and glanced at his phone as he straightened his buttons—despite the hurt from Hannah’s words, Orson wanted her to be there.

“I have some more preparing to do elsewhere.” Ruby smiled tenderly, engulfing Orson in an embrace. “You will do well today.” And then she left.

And only thirty minutes later, it was time.

Orson shook out his hands and feet, hoping to work out some of his anxious jitters before walking into the throne room. He looked over the sea of guests—many of whom he had never met—as he hesitantly stalked down the aisle. He spotted his bandmates, Scary Godmother, Bug-A-Boo, and Mr. Pettibone in the crowd and offered a faltering smile to each of them.

Scary Godmother was blowing her nose into a spiderweb handkerchief and Bug-A-Boo looked practically on the verge of tears himself. This is a moment they had all been waiting for for years, and it had finally come.

Orson made it to the three short steps that lead up to the stage. Ruby and Max were waiting for him in front of their thrones expectantly. He ascended the stairs and turned to face everyone. The attendees erupted into cheers and Orson felt a rush of anxious excitement swell up in his chest.

Max hadn’t really spoken to his son since Orson’s outburst, but today, he was smiling at him. It was a gentle approval that Orson hadn’t known he needed. To be trusted to do things right as himself, and not as some carbon copy of his father, was huge. So when the time came, after all of the incantations and speeches were through, Orson sat in his grand throne and accepted his crown earnestly.

The crowd once again erupted in a mass of shouts and celebration, and then he saw her. Hannah, peeking out from behind Bug-A-Boo, clapping sheepishly.

As things began to settle, the after party commenced right there in the grand hall. Servants swept the rows of chairs away and replaced them with tables piled high with food. His band shredded away on the stage at the other side of the room—Orson had requested them special, despite his father’s protests. He would rather listen to hard rock during his coronation instead of a stuffy orchestra. As he watched the party come together, Orson rose to his feet and whispered to his mother, “How did Hannah get here?”

“I told Scary Godmother to bring her.” Ruby straightened Orson’s jacket and pushed back his hair. “We didn’t want her to miss this, did we?”

* * *

Orson’s job for the rest of the evening was to sit on his throne and accept congratulations from the throngs of party guests. He wanted to be out on the floor, dancing and having fun, but now that he knew Hannah was out there, he felt sheepish enough that he was perfectly fine staying put.

He sat sideways, feet propped up on the armrest of the throne. The seat, being such a grand piece of furniture, was unacceptably uncomfortable, and this was the only way Orson could stand staying seated all night.

Max had wanted to scold him and tell him to sit properly, but Ruby held him back. Orson was king now, and the way he chose to sit in his throne was certainly not worth a fight.

Hannah couldn’t take her eyes off of Orson. She kept circling around the room, drifting back and forth as she tried to work up the courage to go apologize. Eventually, Hannah swallowed her pounding heart and marched her way up to the front. She had to wait in a line of Fright Side citizens who were all waiting to praise Orson in some way, shape, or form. But eventually, she was face-to-face with him.

They blinked at each other for a few moments before Orson cleared his throat and rose. He announced his parents, “Hannah and I will be right back.” A groan of irritation erupted from the monsters behind Hannah in line, but Orson lead her away even so, his cold hand resting gently on her tiny back.

He found an secluded section of the palace where they could be alone. The walls were lined with looming portraits of all the kings that came before. One spot was empty, undoubtedly to leave space for Orson’s own painting.

Orson leaned against a wall and looked Hannah up and down quietly before asking what had been weighing on his mind for nearly a month now, “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Then Hannah shook her head. “But you shouldn’t worry about me.”

“You were just really hurt last time I saw you,” he explained. “I’m sorry for leaving-”

“Orson.” She grabbed his hands firmly. “I am the one who needs to apologize to you.”

She let go of him and gripped the front of her dress. “I said horrible things to you. I was feeling bad so I tried to blame you for those feelings.” She looked up quickly, tears punctuating the conviction in her voice, “I am so incredibly sorry for what I said and how I treated you. Blaming you for Jackson’s actions was despicable.” She inhaled sharply before finishing, “I love you, Orson. More than you’ll ever know. And I did not treat you with the respect your deserve.”

The exhausting weight that had been resting on Orson’s shoulders for weeks suddenly lifted off, as if it had never been there in the first place. The cut from her words was still there, but Orson could feel it starting to heal. Hannah would have to do a lot more than apologize this one time for Orson to move on from this, but it was the start he had wanted. He stepped forward and threw his arms around her, kneeling on the floor to get to her height.

Hannah melted into his arms and kissed his pointed ear gingerly.

“You’re not scared of the King of Night?” Orson half-joked, pulling back to run a hand through her tangle of hair.

“Not at all.” She grinned. “The crown suits you very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra-long chapter today! Hope you like it! Orson is officially a king. I’m going to have a lot of fun playing with this. Hope you’ll stick around!


	10. After Parties Are For Relics

Orson had been gone for too long, and Max sent the servants to find him. The new king was perched up in the rafters of the palace, Hannah clutched on his lap. The two watched the search party flutter around like startled hummingbirds, searching desperately for the missing king.

“Shouldn’t we head back?” Hannah asked, holding onto Orson’s chest. She felt a little bad seeing all of those hard-working folks searching with no avail.

“Nah.” Orson grinned a mischievous fang-filled smile. “Let’s run around the castle for a while.” He wasn’t ready to get sent back to his throne. He wanted to be king, but he wanted to do it on his own terms. And tonight, his terms were to run from the guards and be stupid with his girlfriend.

Hannah giggled. “Okay sure. Even though this is incredibly irresponsible of you.”

Once the servants were gone, Orson unfolded his long legs and held Hannah princess-style in his arms. He floated down to the ground and set Hannah down next to him. As they touched down, a voice echoed from down the hall, “There he is!”

Orson picked Hannah up again and went dashing away in the opposite direction. The two laughed giddily as they made their escape. Orson hung a left into a tight corridor. He struggled to get traction in his slippery dress-shoes, and he almost slammed into the wall. He ducked through an unlocked door and shut it quietly behind him as he placed Hannah down.

The servants went thundering past and in the midst of their loud footfalls, Orson turned the lock with a soft _click_. Someone on the other side tested the knob, and Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. But the servant seemed satisfied and moseyed off to search somewhere else.

For a few moments, the two stayed quiet, listening for any noises, but eventually Orson burst out laughing. Hannah followed suit, giggling uncontrollably.

Hannah turned around to get a look at the room as she laughed. It was mostly empty except for a fireplace, a dusty, cobweb encrusted desk, and a couch that was covered in a stiff white sheet. “What is this room?”

“We have a lot of unused space in the palace,” Orson explained. “It’s so big, and there’s only three of us. So we don’t have the means to fill up a whole palace.” He yanked the sheet from off the couch and sat down, folding one leg over the other. He took off his suit jacket and stretched his slender neck around to look at the room. “I don’t think this one has been used for a long time.”

“Why _is _it only you and your parents?” Hannah asked, smoothing her bright yellow dress out before sitting next to Orson. It was something she had always wondered. They were from a long line of vampire kings and queens, so where had they all gone? “You’re all immortal, so why aren’t there more of you?”

“We’re not indestructible,” Orson said, a solemn tone rising in his voice. Orson caught his dry lip with his fang and stared into the empty hearth. “Once, when my dad was still a prince, some humans found the Fright Side. They found our palace. And they took a lot of the royal family out. My dad survived.”

“Oh,” Hannah looked down into her lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t do it.”

Hannah nodded. What a terrible thing. Humans were horrible, and they had the nerve to call these people the monsters.

Orson saw the concerned knit in Hannah’s eyebrows and put his arm around her. “We’re okay now. Don’t worry about it. Okay?”

“I’ll try not to.” Hannah offered a small smile.

After searching Hannah’s face for a moment, Orson stood and squatted in front of the fireplace. He poked around for a while, and soon a fire was flickering in the hearth. The flame silhouetted Orson as he stayed crouched there.

Hannah migrated from the couch and sat next to him. The palace was frigid, so soaking up the warmth from the fire felt nice. Hannah held her hands out in front of the flames. “I can’t believe you’re really a king,” Hannah mused, changing the subject.

“Me neither.” Orson chuckled and fell back onto his butt, stretching his legs out in front of him. He removed his crown and looked at himself in the polished gold. “This thing isn’t really my style.”

“I think you wear it handsomely.” Hannah played with a knot in the floorboard. “And you’ll be a great king.”

The orange light of the fire caught onto all of Hannah’s soft features and made her sprawling curls look as if they were made of flames. The fire had the opposite effect on Orson, darkening the gauntness of his face and sinking his glowing eyes in shadow. From the outside, they were an odd match—a warm spark of life, and an ice-cold corpse. But for them, the other was a puzzle piece that fit just right.

* * *

Their night ended with a harsh banging at the door.

Hannah woke with a start, her eyes bleary and watery from sleep. She sat up and shivered as she became aware of the cold air. She looked down at Orson who was still lying next to her on the couch and smiled to herself. She drew the blanket up around her to hold of the gray morning’s chill.

Orson had awoken as well, and annoyance burned in his eyes. He squinted up toward the ceiling, reluctant to put his glasses back on. Once he did that, it would be like acknowledging that the morning had come and that Hannah would soon have to head home again.

Slowly, the king of night sat up as well and leaned sleepily on his girlfriend. But the pounding on the door grew louder, and this time it was accompanied with Max’s stern voice, “Orson! I know you are in there.”

Max should have been in bed by now, but here he was knocking down the door of the room that his son had locked himself in for the entire party. This boy cared not for what was proper, and it was driving Max up the wall. Perhaps he could be at peace with Orson wanting to change some things, but missing his own coronation celebration was crossing the line.

Orson rose reluctantly and straightened his dress shirt. He looked sorrily at Hannah and shrugged his shoulder incredulously. Max always found a way to divebomb his personal life.

Hannah took the queue to get up too. She didn’t want to have to go back to her boring life after last night. Orson made everything so exciting. He made being alive an adventure. Hannah thought that she would walk with him, even into death. And then shook the morbid thought from her mind. This was a temporary thing. Eventually, Orson would have to move on from her. She bit her lip thumb nail. Eventually, Hannah would have to face a life as a human. No Fright Side. No Orson. But, for now, she had him. And that would have to be enough.

Once they were both sufficiently awake, Orson unlocked the door and let his father saunter in. Before Max could say a thing, Orson pushed Hannah passed him and out into the hall. “Hannah was just on her way out. Did you need me, dad?” And he closed the door behind her.

Max blinked in shock. “You spent the night with that girl? How inappropriate. You are king.”

“What’s so inappropriate about it? We were just hanging out.” Orson leaned against the desk and ran a finger along the grimy surface. He examined the dust between his fingers. This was Orson’s fate, to become a dusty, old relic in this damn castle. Just like this lonely little desk. Just like his angry old dad.

“She is a human. The king of the night cannot fool around with some human girl.” Max explained, an edge to his voice that indicated rising anger. “And to think she pulled you away from your party.”

“That was my idea.” Orson stood suddenly. “I wasn’t even allowed to dance. What kind of party is that? And who cares if Hannah is human?”

“Kings do not dance. And vampires cannot be with humans.”

“How many times do I need to explain this to you?” Orson turned away and slammed his hands down on the desk, sending a puff of smoke-like dust into the air. “I am not interested in selling my soul to be king. I’m not going to sacrifice my happiness just because you did.”

Max stayed quiet for a moment before speaking again. His voice came out in a low, deep growl, “You might be king, but I am still your father, and as your father, I do not approve of the way you have been treating me. And I certainly do not approve of you treating your kingship as a child’s game.”

He was hurt, but he would die again before letting his son see his weakness. Instead, he put his foot down. “It is simply not appropriate for someone like yourself to be flitting around with a human. You are forbidden from seeing Hannah again.”

Orson spun around to face his father. “You can’t do that. I’ll see her anyway.”

Max turned to leave. “I know. But if you choose to defy me, I will make sure that _she _can never see you again.”


	11. The Thanksgiving Episode (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the new readers who have joined my tiny corner of the shipping community. I am so excited that I'm lucky enough to have so many people legitimately excited about this random little story. I apologize for taking so long. This is a treat for me, and I never have time to work on it as intensely I would like! I would rather take my time than burn myself out and disappoint you guys.
> 
> PSA: The next 2-3 chapters will be about Thanksgiving, but I don't think I'll get them all out before Thanksgiving. So sorry about that. And I didn't mean for the chapters to line up with real-world holidays and stuff, but that's what happened so that's fine!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter! And I'll see you when I see you!

“I can’t see you anymore.”

That was the last text Orson had sent to Hannah. And yet again, Hannah found herself sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at those five words in bewilderment. She mulled over the last night they had spent together, the night of Orson’s coronation. She rolled it over in her brain repeatedly. What had happened that would lead him to cut her off? Was it something she did? Said?

Clementine glanced across the room at Hannah and cleared their throat softly. “Still no word?”

Hannah shook her head solemnly. “I hope he’s okay. He seemed fine last time I saw him.”

“I’m sure he’s okay.” Clem offered a smile. It came off more uncertain than they had wanted—sort of lopsided and strained. But even so, Hannah smiled back.

Orson hadn’t given up on her when she had cut him off, and she had said some pretty horrible things. So, Hannah wasn’t about to give up on Orson without hearing from him first.

And Orson did want to talk to Hannah. More than anything, but there was a barrier between him and her. A barrier named Max who would probably rip her little throat out the moment he had the chance. Orson didn’t know if Max would hurt Hannah for real, but that was not a risk he was willing to take.

For once, Ruby hadn’t been able to intercept her husband’s rage, so Orson was slowly and begrudgingly accepting his new life. A life where he slept in his coffin alone and carried out menial kingly tasks without anyone to talk to besides his parents and the servants.

Though, something about this evening was different. Orson rose from his coffin as usual and went about his normal routine of tidying himself up for the night, but, as he was brushing his fangs, he heard an unusually energetic chattering echoing through the castle.

He held the toothbrush still in his mouth and peaked out through his bathroom window slowly. He nearly choked as he saw a mile-long line of women snaking through the manor. The line reached all around the palace, and disappeared into a mist in the distance. Every single girl in the Fright Side must have been there.

Orson spit out his tooth paste and tugged a shirt on over his pajama pants. He ran from his room and to his father who was hunched over his desk. A grotesque smile danced on his lips.

“Dad, what is happening?” Orson hadn’t spoken to Max since he threatened Hannah, which was a few weeks ago by now. Orson hadn’t ever wanted to talk to his dad again, but he needed to know what was going on.

“Ah, good evening, my boy.” Max turned and grabbed Orson’s shoulders. “I have called as many young ladies as possible to come and try to win your affections.”

Orson stepped back, nudging his dad’s hands off. “What are you talking about?”

“Today you will find a queen!”

Orson’s mouth was dry. The kind of dry that made your insides feel sticky and your teeth itch. He stepped back again, furthering the distance between him and Max. And then, he was running again.

* * *

Maggie, Hannah’s eight-year-old lap dog hadn’t been able to get any proper rest with all of the excitement around the holiday. So as soon as the humans had gone and the house was oh-so quiet, she found a lovely little spot on Hannah’s soft bed. But just as she had settled in, a lanky, gray boy came tumbling out of the closet. Naturally, Maggie proceeded to tell the intruder to get out, but her warning came in tiny, pathetic yips.

Orson paid the tiny pup no mind as he ran over to the blinds and drew them closed before the sun could sizzle him to a crisp. He crept over to the door and pressed his pointed ear against the wood, listening for any sounds. But the house was empty.

He ran his fingers through his spiky hair and sunk to the floor, exhausted. He had flapped his little bat wings are fast as possible to get to Scary Godmother’s house. And when he explained what had happened between him and his father, she let him through to Hannah’s realm without question.

It was a mild set back that Hannah wasn’t here, but he could only hope that she wouldn’t be gone for long. Orson looked up and made eye contact with the dog across the room. She had stopped her shrill barking and was staring curiously at the invader instead. Orson smiled. “Guess I’ll hang out with you until she comes back.”

* * *

It was nice to be home again. The smell of Hannah’s mom’s mulling spices, the sound of her middle-school-aged little sister complaining about her equally immature friends, and watching football with her dad (even though Hannah never really liked football) took her mind off of her personal drama.

But the pasted smile on Hannah’s face couldn’t fool Hannah’s cousin Jimmy, even though the act seemed to pacify even her parents. Jimmy had been the worst bully to her when he was a kid—it was something he would always be ashamed of—but, as an adult, Hannah was one of the most important people in Jimmy’s life. And seeing her hiding something from him broke his heart.

Whenever the extended family got together for the holidays, they always spent half their time at Hannah’s parent’s place, and half their time at Jimmy’s parent’s place. So, one day when they were over at Jimmy’s and his mom asked him to pick up some things for Thanksgiving Day at the store, he insisted that Hannah accompany him to “help carry the groceries.”

They rode quietly in the car, listening to pre-mature Christmas tunes jingling away on the radio. It was a beautiful day—crisp orange leaves hung from the trees, and a soft, cool breeze floated in through the cracked car window. Hannah looked wistful, gray and slumped in juxtaposition to the vibrant landscape outside.

“There’s something going on, isn’t there?” Jimmy probed, suddenly breaking the silence open like a pinata.

“What?” Hannah turned to look at her cousin’s side profile. He was as blonde and as lanky as ever—starkly different from her brown-hair shortness. So different, in fact, that hardly anybody ever believed they were related.

Jimmy rolled the window up, cutting them off from the noise of nature and pulled into the parking lot of the supermarket. He ran a hand through his fine hair and looked at Hannah. “You’ve been… I don’t know… glum?”

“I’m not glum,” Hannah insisted. She held onto the seatbelt, wondering if she should just get out and avoid this talk all together. But, oh how she wanted to tell Jimmy what was on her mind.

She wasn’t keeping Orson secret, per se, but no one in her family would be able to fully understand, so she just hadn’t bothered to bring it up. They didn’t even know about Orson. They didn’t even know about The Fright Side! It would have been too difficult to explain, so Hannah kept it all to herself. But, even if Jimmy thought she was crazy, she wanted to tell him.

She proceeded carefully, “I’m dating this guy. His name is Orson.”

“Orson?” Jimmy paused for a long moment and then recognition ignited in his eyes. “That creepy vampire kid who lives in the… What was it called? The Fright Side?”

Hannah lifted her eyebrows, her mouth open slightly in stunned silence. It took her a moment to respond. “You remember that?”

“Uh… Yeah?” Jimmy unbuckled his seat belt and turned to look at his cousin. “I was traumatized for an entire year because of your little prank on me. A prank that I totally deserved, but still. And I literally _went_ to The Fright Side _with_ you that one time.”

“Well yeah…” Hannah nodded. “But even I forgot it once and I used to visit there all the time.”

“Guess I’m just special,” Jimmy joked. But after a second, his face went serious again. “So you’re dating Orson?”

“Yes… At least I was.”

“So he dumped you? His loss.”

“No.”

“No?”

Hannah paused and stared down at her hands. “I think something is wrong with him, but I’m also worried that I might have done something…”

Jimmy sucked on his teeth and tapped his thumb against the steering wheel in contemplation. “I don’t have experience dealing with guys,” he started, pulling on his neck, “but based on what I know about dating in general, sometimes it’s best to give people time.”

“I just really want to know what’s going on.” Hannah broke eye contact and busied herself with watching the swarms of last-minute shoppers ebbing and flowing through the parking lot.

“Which is understandable. But, if you really can’t think of a single thing he might be mad about…”

Hannah shook her head.

“…Then it must be something he’s dealing with. And if he’s not talking to you right now, you just have to let him know that you’ll be there for him when he does feel ready to talk again.”

While Hannah didn’t much like the feeling of being ignored by her boyfriend, she reminded herself— without telling Jimmy because she was still a little embarrassed about how she had behaved—that she had also iced Orson out not too long ago. And even though her radio silence had been her own stupid fault, Orson had been patient enough to wait for her. So she could at least do the same.

The two got out of the car and continued their conversation on their way into the store. If they took too long, Jimmy’s mom would probably send out a search party.

On their way back out to the car, Hannah’s shoe caught on the corner of the curb and she lurched forward, almost smashing all the five or six bags of food she had gripped in her hands.

Jimmy stopped for her. “Are you okay?”

Hannah looked down at her sneaker and frowned. The sole had been ripped off the rest of the shoe and was now hanging on by a thread. “I’m alright. But I busted my shoe,” she mumbled in frustration. “Can we stop by my house on the way back so I can get another pair.”

“Sure thing.” Jimmy loaded his half of the groceries into the trunk as Hannah wobbled back to the car on her broken shoe.

It was a quick drive to her house, and she asked Jimmy to wait for in the car. She wouldn’t take long. She let herself in through the front door with the key her mom stashed under the mat, and stepped into the quiet emptiness. Hannah was aching for some peace and quiet, so it was nice to be alone, even for just a moment.

She removed her shoes and padded upstairs to her bedroom. And when she opened the door, her heart jumped into her throat. Right there, lying on his back in the center of her room, was Orson.


End file.
